


frost, christmas, and you

by heyheybrownieboy (quirkyteal)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Christmas date with minho in all his tsundere glory, Christmas drinks, F/M, I had an idea then I lost it then I started this fic, Tsundere, boyfriend! minho, cafe date with minho, cakes!!!, festive drinks, merry christmas!!!!, minho is so hard to write, or at least as best as I can write it right now, tbh this fic was such a rollercoaster to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28265607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkyteal/pseuds/heyheybrownieboy
Summary: A Christmas cafe date with Minho.
Relationships: Lee Minho | Lee Know/Reader, lee know/reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	frost, christmas, and you

**Author's Note:**

> my beta stef did more than usual this time round bc i was insecure abt my writing this time round (more in the footer notes!) so everyone say thank you stef for reading, re-reading, and editing this fic (‘:

Your breath puffs out in front of you in clouds as you swerve, trying to avoid crashing into anyone, stumbling as you struggle to keep up. Minho’s hand grips yours tightly, the warmth anchoring you in the winter morning, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over you in the sunlight. He turns back, a brief moment that steals your breath as his cold eyes meet yours and sweep away. He pulls a door open and tugs you in behind him.

He lets go of your hand but doesn’t stop walking, making a beeline for the innermost seat in the cafe, a high-backed booth with a view of the rest of the patrons, as well as the floor to ceiling windows looking out into the street. You haul yourself in after him, shrugging off your padded coat with way less elegance than he did.

The two of you are regulars here, but it’s been awhile since your last visit. You look around at the Christmas decorations, frosted snowflakes framing the windows and touches of glittery calligraphy accompanying sprigs of holly and mistletoe. The air is laced with the faint aroma of cinnamon. Minho clears his throat.

“Hey, you’re on a date with me,” he remarks, an amused smirk on his lips.

“So? Some things are more interesting to look at than your face,” you fire back, a small smile negating any venom in your words.

Minho scoffs. “I’ll go get the menu. Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone!”

You roll your eyes teasingly, your gaze wandering to the view of the street in his absence. You see some of the girls you passed by earlier stopping outside the cafe, peering in trying to get a good view of your boyfriend. You sigh. It’s been about 6 months since your relationship was made public, but you’re still coming to terms with the fact that your lives will never be the same. At least while you were sneaking around, you could still spend time together in private, albeit in disguises. Out in the open, you could go to more places, but you also had to deal with the loss of privacy. It felt awkward being affectionate with Minho when it felt like a billion eyes were staring. You couldn’t figure out which you preferred.

Minho’s frame crosses your field of vision, snapping you out of your thoughts.

His gaze is fixed on you as he sits, his arm coming around you protectively, as if he knew what you were thinking. He blocks your view of the street with his body, looking askance down at you, pushing the menu into your hands. He strokes your hair as you look down at it, and you know he’s sending cold glares out the window at the nosy pedestrians. By the time you’ve made your decisions he’s turned his attention back to you, his head tilted towards you and creating a world for just the two of you.

“Let’s get some cake too. I saw something nice at the counter,” his low voice washes over you, lulling you into a sense of security.

“What kind of cake was it?”

“Let me surprise you.” With that, he departs for the counter again, and you look down at your hands folded in your lap. Your eyes drift over to your jacket, a long white padded jacket with a hood and a fur collar. Minho had gotten it for you last Christmas, when the both of you were still going back and forth between friends and something more. The jacket bears your initials embroidered into the inner lining just below the label, just as his does, too, and a small smile graces your face at the memory.

“What are you looking at?” You jump as Minho’s voice comes from behind. You admire his side profile as he slides into the booth opposite you.

“Just the jacket my boyfriend confessed to me with.”

“I did not!”

“It wasn’t a confession but it might as well have been.”

He rolls his eyes. “Can’t a friend gift another friend a jacket for Christmas?”

“Not when you have a matching one _and_ they’re both customised with our initials!”

He huffs. “Forget it. No more presents for you, if you’re going to be such a brat about it.”

You gasp. “You would never!”

He side eyes you. “I would. And what a waste, too… I had a good one for you this year. But since you ruined it… I’ll give it to someone more deserving,” he fixes you with a cool gaze.

“Who would be more deserving than your girlfriend?”

“Kim Seungmin would appreciate it, I know,” he says, grabbing the menu from your side of the table and looking through it.

“Does that mean I don’t have to give you a present either?”

His head snaps up. His eyes narrow.

The two of you are locked in a staring contest as your orders arrive. A waiter hesitantly approaches and sets the tray down while looking rapidly between you and Minho. He unloads the plates and cups and backs away gingerly, muttering a quick “enjoy your meal” as he escapes to the counter.

Minho breaks eye contact first, pushing your drink towards you, pulling his towards himself and taking a long sip. It’s only when he sits back, arranging the plates between you, that you take a sip of your own. Immediately your body floods with warmth and a smile creases your cheeks. Minho’s face lights up seeing you enjoy your drink, but he composes himself once you look up.

“I wanted to try all the new flavours, so…” he trails off as he gestures towards the plates covering the tabletop, each holding a different slice of cake. There’s a round one made up of alternating layers of red and green sponge, topped with white cream, a miniature Santa Claus figurine, and a little Christmas tree sculpted from fondant; a rainbow cake with mistletoe sitting atop a blanket of white frosting; a red velvet log cake with strawberries on top; and a chocolate cake elaborately decorated to look like a reindeer, complete with eyes, a red nose, and golden antlers poking upwards.

You let out a little squeal as you take it all in, the festive excitement overcoming you for a moment. You grab your phone and open the camera app, but before you can take a photo, Minho swipes a huge forkful of the reindeer cake and shoves it into his mouth. You freeze in shock, turning your eyes to him slowly, meeting his smug grin.

“I wanted to take a photo…”

“You should’ve been faster then,” he says, reaching over to the rainbow cake.

“No!”

You try to snap a photo before he gets to it, but alas, the resulting picture shows half the cake covered by Minho’s hand as his chocolate covered fork dips into it. You can’t even take a photo of it now, thanks to the chocolate smears Minho’s fork left on it. You quickly grab a fork and stretch your arm over to the strawberry cake, but you underestimate how far away it is, and get smears of strawberry on the sleeve of your white sweater.

“Hey, be careful- ah, you ruined your sweater! Come here, dummy,” Minho’s voice goes from alarmed to frustrated to exasperated as he takes your wrist and lifts it high up and away from the cakes. Removing the fork from your grasp, he keeps his grip on your wrist as he rounds the table, grabbing napkins and crowding you against the wall as he takes a seat next to you. He soaks up the strawberry juice using the napkins, his gentle touch on your hands making your heart flutter.

“We’d better wash this out before it leaves a stain,” you barely manage to hear him state before he’s rising from the booth, still gripping your wrist and dragging you along with him.

He pushes open the door to the unisex toilet and locks it behind the two of you. The bathroom is big for a cafe, all white tile and a few hanging plants. A huge round mirror takes focus, occupying the wall above the sink, behind the door. A dryer sits to the right of the sink, on the wall next to the door. Your eyes dart from him to the locked door, wondering what he’s planning. The cafe isn’t too busy, so you’re not worried about hogging it from many people. Minho turns on the sink.

“Come on,” he says, pulling your wrist under the water and rubbing soap over the stain. A few minutes of scrubbing and the pink is completely gone. He squeezes the water out with more tissue before pressing a button and running your hand under the hand dryer to dry your sleeve.

He stands behind you, hands cupping yours and rubbing along your arms as the hot air warms your hands. You feel him bury his face in your shoulder and breathe in. You lean back and let your head rest on his shoulder, and he takes this as an invitation to run his hands up your arms and around your waist, skimming your breasts along the way. You feel him smirk against your neck as your breath hitches and he says something, but it’s drowned out by the roar of the hand dryer. His hands come to rest on your hips, squeezing briefly before he starts peppering kisses along your neck. His hands return to yours, checking if the dampened sleeve has dried - it hasn’t, and he holds your hands there in a wordless command.

His hands travel the same path as before, now taking his sweet time dragging his fingers along your arms and down your torso, leaving a delicious trail of warmth and making you squirm in his embrace. He turns to watch you through the mirror, the pretty picture the two of you make. You feel his movement and follow, eyes widening at the sight that greets you through the glass. Your eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Minho’s hands brush across your belly, moving around to grab handfuls of your butt. He’s always had a thing for butts, but with you it’s almost an obsession. He smacks your cheeks lightly, enjoying how you gasp, and the bounce of your bum against him. The white noise of the hand dryer makes it impossible for any speech to happen, so all you can do is turn your face into his neck and hope he gets the message. He smooths his palms over your hips and down your thighs before returning, laying more kisses to your neck as he plays with the flesh of your jean-clad behind in his hands. His eyes track every move through the mirror, admiring your curves and expressions.

By now your sleeve is bone dry, and you take the chance to catch him by surprise, spinning in his arms to drape your hands behind his head and pull him in for a kiss. He stumbles, parted lips meeting yours messily. You catch his bottom lip between your teeth, sweeping your tongue across and gently tugging him closer to you. His hands flex on your backside, pulling you flush against his hips and granting you a feel of his half-hard length. You push your chest against his in response, grinning when you feel his groan rumble against your lips. He sneaks a hand beneath your sweater, a sigh escaping both of you when his fingertips find the delicate lace of your bra. He presses just a little harder, just below the tops of the fabric cupping your breasts, and is rewarded with a gasp and your thighs pressing together. He uses your distraction to wheel the two of you around, slotting a thick, muscled thigh between your legs and forcing them open, backing you up against the sink. He leans forward to nose at your earlobe, hands tugging at the hem of your sweater. The dryer goes silent.

“Minho, you can’t be serious-“ you whisper.

“Just a peek, please?” he pouts. “It felt pretty, and you wore it just for me, right?”

“Yes, but it was meant for later!”

“Well, I’m impatient!”

“That’s your problem.”

He pouts one last time before letting the matter drop. He’s never pushed your boundaries when it came to anything intimate, and you loved him all the more for it. You get an idea.

“Let’s get back to our table. I bet all the whipped cream’s dissolved by now,” you say, rearranging your hair before heading for the door. You pause with a hand on the lock, turning to watch him quickly check his reflection and almost bump into you. He looks at you quizzically.

You grab the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your chest, revealing your bra, a pure white affair with spaghetti thin straps holding up half cups that just about cover your nipples, the whole thing covered in sheer snowflake lace, threads of silver glitter casting a subtle glow across your curves. Once you see Minho’s eyes drop and widen, you quickly drop the sweater and fling open the door, confident steps taking you back to your table, leaving your boyfriend frozen in the doorway.

“Hey- what- that’s not- wait!” You hear his hand catch the door and swing it open, his heavy steps catching up to you, his breath quick and harsh. You slide back into your seat, smirking as he collapses into the booth opposite you, eyes wild, chest heaving.

“You’re the worst. The worst best girlfriend in the whole world."

**Author's Note:**

> tbh i'm not 100% happy with this fic bc i feel like i didn’t truly capture minho’s personality in all its facets!! but i don’t think there’s much else i can do with this fic so i'm posting it… guess i'll just need to study and practice writing soonie doongie dori's dad more 😖


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